


3:47 A.M.

by seltzerboy



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Could be read as just a friendship fic if u want, Cuddling, Fluff, Idk if Ringo was actually scared of flying but hey let’s just pretend, M/M, hurt/comfort I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:39:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seltzerboy/pseuds/seltzerboy
Summary: Ringo can’t sleep on a flight, and seeks comfort in his friend





	3:47 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen man idk if Ringo was afraid of flying, and it’s real late and I don’t feel like finding out, but let’s use our imagination. Also this is really short and i don’t really know where it came from, but enjoy it if ur into that I guess

The plane was quiet and dark, save for the sound of the engine and the soft yellow lights of the cabin, which illuminated only small patches on the floor and ceiling of the airplanes walkway. 

There were about a dozen people on board this private flight, heading to America once again. They were all mostly official people, wearing full grey business suits, their briefcases tucked neatly under their seats or above their heads. These people were the ones responsible for the four men who were soundly sleeping in one corner of the plane. Well, almost all of them were soundly sleeping. There was just one man who lay awake, sitting in his chair with his legs tucked tightly together against his chest. He was significantly smaller than the other three men, even sitting down. In the dim light of the airplane cabin, he looked much younger than his 24 years would suggest. In fact, despite his small stature, he was the oldest of the four men. The oldest, but not the bravest. Certainly not tonight. 

Ringo continued to stare out of the window, his knees still pulled tight to his chest, his breath still short, his eyes still brimming with tears. He knew everyone else was asleep. He knew he should be asleep as well, they were arriving in America to start their new tour in just a few hours. And yet, his nerves continued to fire wildly, his ears continued to strain, dreading to hear the tell tale signs of an engine coming loose, or a window slowly cracking, sure to suck every one of them out into the inky blackness which surrounded the plane. He checked his watch for the 15th time, hoping more time had passed than he’d expected. 

_3:47 A.M. ___

__He shook his head, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments. This threatened to be the harbinger of sleep. And yet, he couldn’t. When the plane curved slightly to the left to make a turn, Ringo let out a small cry, involuntarily. He shook his head once more. His turtle neck sweater felt itchy against his skin, and he wished all of a sudden to be under the covers of a bed, his bed, at home._ _

__He glanced over to his left, where George sat sleeping. His eyelashes lay solemnly against his cheeks, their shadows sloping downwards across his skin, from the cabin lights. But the light was not bright, and therefore Ringo could not see anything beyond the curve of George’s shoulder. The younger man let out a soft noise in his slumber, a cough of sorts. He shifted slightly, his head rolling to the left, his hair now glowing with a halo effect from the yellow light behind him. His right arm sat on the armrest, a few mere inches from Ringos own arm._ _

__Ringo continued to stare at George, temporarily forgetting about his fear, seemingly lost in his friends presence. Then the plane began to shake, if only for a moment or two, and without much hesitation at all, Ringo reached out and grabbed hold of George’s hand tightly. He closed his eyes and continued to squeeze said hand in his own, letting his head fall slightly to the left, so he was now halfway resting against George._ _

__Ringo opened his eyes once he realized the plane was not, in fact, going to fall from the sky at this moment. He stared straight ahead at the backs of the seats in front of him, barely making out Johns form through the crack between the two, slumped over and breathing deeply. Paul wasn’t visible, but Ringo knew he was most likely asleep as well._ _

__Only now did Ringo realize he was still holding onto George’s hand, and tightly at that. He let go, and made to shift away from the other man, to go back to his worrying once more._ _

__“Y’dont haf’t’a.”_ _

__Ringo stopped in his movement immediately, his eyes darting around to stare directly into George’s, which were now open slightly and looking right at him._ _

__Ringo opened and closed his mouth a few times, not knowing what to say, not knowing if he’d even heard his friend right. He could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck, underneath his turtle neck, a rather uncomfortable feeling. In the end, he settled for,_ _

__“What?”_ _

__George blinked, taking a deep inhale of air, and taking his bottom lip between his teeth, a habit which had caused a small dent to form in the pink skin over his lifetime._ _

__“I said you don’t have to.”_ _

__Ringo nodded, his eyes drifting from George’s towards Johns form once more._ _

__“They won’t see—no one will.”_ _

__Ringo looked back at George again, his eyes large, a silent ask. George answered with a quirk if his mouth, so small one might not think it was there at all. But it was enough._ _

__Ringo lifted the arm rest, pushing it back between their seats. George raised his arm, allowing the older man to attach himself to his side, before bringing it back down to rest on said man’s back._ _

__Ringos arms went around George’s waist, holding tightly, but not too harshly. He pressed his face against the other man’s chest, closing his eyes again, feeling George’s other arm slowly twisting a strand of his hair. The hand moved again, finding Ringos jaw, cupping it gently, and giving a small push, to raise Ringos face from his chest._ _

__Ringos eyes were large and dark, his eyebrows pushing down as they normally did. George glanced down at the man’s mouth, which was closed and pulled into a slight frown. He took his thumb from where it lay against Ringos cheek, and slowly brought it to his bottom lip, not pushing, not pulling, just resting it there. George looked back up to his eyes, which were now different, somehow softer._ _

__After a few minutes, or maybe it was simply a few seconds, George’s thumb went back to its place on Ringos cheek, and he brought the man’s head back to his chest._ _

__Ringo closed his eyes then, no longer afraid, and in no rush to make it to America anytime soon._ _


End file.
